Of Heart & Mind Control
by Nutzkie
Summary: When a mission goes awry, the appearance of an old friend creates a whole new sitch for Team Possible. What's a teen hero to do?
1. Old Friends & New Schemes

**Usual Legal Junk:**

As always, K.P. and company are the sole property of the Disney Corporation, as is anything associated with them. The only thing here that I own is the story idea itself, so don't even bother trying to make an issue of it. Any and all inquiries can be directed to my attorney at the law offices of Swindahl, Steel, Sosumi, Dolittle & Stahl.

And now, on with the show…

* * *

**- Chapter One -**

Narrowed eyes stared intently at the complex assemblage of equipment before them, carefully monitoring each and every component, watching for even the slightest hint that things were not as they should be. Irises contracted with focus as the intense gaze shifted between beakers, vessels, vacuum jars and test tubes, darting quickly to follow the intricate tangle of tubing as it wound its way through the labyrinth, bobbing and weaving amongst a forest of condenser coils and holding tanks.

The harsh glare of fluorescent lights was augmented by the warm glow of Bunsen burners as the complex matrix of equipment did its work, merrily simmering, vaporizing, condensing, filtering and processing its charge, performing the bidding of its creator, bringing his ultimate goal closer to fruition.

From his vantage point just a scant few inches away, the inventor of this veritable plumbing jungle looked on with glee, rubbing his hands and bearing a grin that threatened to split his face in two. From behind protective goggles, his eyes continued to dart about, to and fro, scarcely able to contain the excitement that was now building within him. He marveled at the subtle motions and ministrations of his creation, noting how it all seemed to breathe and flow with a sublime rhythm, much like that of a living organism. In a sense, this was his baby: He had given birth to it, and in just a few short moments his progeny would reach maturity, providing him with the one thing he desired above all else at this moment.

His heart nearly leapt out of his chest when the distinct sound of a nearby egg timer indicated that the process was complete. Excitedly he dashed around to the end of the table, nearly tripping over an equipment crate in the process, and pressed his nose against the Pyrex cylinder that would soon contain the results of all his labors.

If it was possible for his grin to become any wider, it now did so as a stream of viscous, yellow fluid slowly oozed from the end of a glass tube and dropped into the waiting vessel, faint tendrils of steam wafting from its surface. The steam rose slowly up and dissipated, dispensing a distinctive aroma throughout the confined space in the process. For the master of this machine, this was all he had been waiting for.

"At long-last, I've done it! My dream is fulfilled!" he shouted, ripping the goggles from his face and throwing his head back in a bout of maniacal laughter. "They all may have doubted me, but I have created the ultimate nacho cheese blend! _Booyah-ha-ha-ha-ha!"_

"Amp down, Ron." Kim chided from her vantage point on the far side of Ron's garage. "It's just another cholesterol-laden, processed cheese topping."

"As _if!"_ Ron replied defensively, grabbing the beaker from the table and tucking it tightly against himself like a parent protecting a small child. "With its superior viscosity and neutral pH factor, this is a major step in the war against clumping. Why the structure of the fat matrix alone is totally award-worthy!"

"Great, I'll have Wade call Stockholm and notify the Nobel committee." Kim said with a roll of her eyes. "They'll love to hear this, coming from a guy who flunked high school chem. _Twice."_

"Mock if you want, K.P." Ron indignantly replied. "But mark my words, you have just witnessed history being made!" He thrust his finger skyward for emphasis as Rufus emerged from his pocket and quickly took up a position on Ron's left shoulder, placing a tiny paw over his heart and humming the opening bars of "The Battle Hymn of the Republic."

"Let it be recorded that on this day, a great blow was struck in the name of all those who cherish Tex-Mex cuisine." He loftily continued. "With this monumental achievement, we advance our cause, not for ourselves, but for all those who share the vision: A vision of a world free from the perils of unwanted coagulation and inconsistent temperature. A world where the legacy the taco and all of its well-seasoned cousins can not only survive, but thrive, showing us the path to the ultimate goal of culinary nirvana."

Kim simply rolled her eyes once again and groaned. Past experience had taught her that once Ron got on a roll like this, there was no stopping him. He was like a freight train running down hill: The most one could do was simply ride it out, and hope for the best.

Ron was preparing to launch himself into round two of his oration when the Kimmunicator mercifully beeped out its distinctive four-tone alert.

"_Saved by the Wade."_ Kim silently thought to herself as she activated the device.

"Hey Kim." Wade jovially greeted the moment his image appeared in the tiny screen. "How goes it with the quest for the perfect cheese topping?"

"Houston, we have queso!" Ron cried out from the background, obviously still reveling in his success.

"No way! You really did it?" was Wade's astonished and enthusiastic reply.

"Check it, dude! Six ounces of gelatinous joy!" Ron responded, thrusting the beaker into the Kimmunicator's field of view. Wade simply stared wide-eyed at the object before him, his jaw agape. He acted as if he was staring at the Holy Grail itself.

"I never thought I'd actually see it." He gasped. "My life is now officially complete."

"Wade," Kim suddenly broke in, "tell me there's something more to this call."

"Huh… Oh yeah, right." Wade sputtered, quickly turning his attention back to more business-like matters. "I just got a lead from Global Justice. Surveillance satellites are picking up some strange energy signatures in the southern Caribbean Sea." He professionally informed.

"Any idea what that means?" Kim asked, quickly swinging her mind into "Mission Mode."

"Not yet, but I do know _who_ it means." Wade replied. "What's blue and green and annoying all over?"

"Ugh! Drakken and Shego _again?"_ Kim moaned. "Why do I feel like my life is stuck in some kind of film loop?"

"So what's the status of our favorite gruesome twosome?" Ron inquired, sliding up behind Kim and abandoning his "mad scientist" vibe for a much more professional demeanor.

"Business as usual." Wade replied. "From the looks of things, they don't know they're being scanned."

"Okay, then we're on the job." Kim stated, putting on her game face. "What's the sitch, ride-wise?"

"Your brothers are still working on the Sloth's transmission, and Ron's bird is" still down for an engine overhaul." Wade informed. "Fortunately I've been able to make other arrangements, however. Can you be at the airport in twenty minutes?"

"Easier done than said, Wade." Kim replied enthusiastically. "We'll check in once we're there."

"Roger that! Wade out." The young webmaster replied with a salute as he severed the connection, plunging the Kimmunicator's screen back into darkness.

"Game time, Ron. The quest for ultimate cheesy-ness will have to wait." Kim stated as she turned and began to stalk out of the garage.

"Ah man! But I was just about to start testing for possible fondue applications." Ron whined as he dutifully followed his girlfriend. "The potential for this to revolutionize the world of hors d'oeuvres is simply mind-blowing!"

From his position, he couldn't see the mega-eye roll that Kim flashed.

* * *

Whoever said you can't go home again?

Walking through the halls of his newly rebuilt Caribbean lair, the Doctor Drakken couldn't help but smile. The damage done by the Lowardian walkers had now been fully repaired, and life was finally returning to the normal routine he had always enjoyed. The A/C was humming, the henchmen were milling about, occupying themselves with the normal list of everyday tasks, and he had another foolproof scheme for global domination.

Satisfied that all was well with the world once again, Drakken strode in to the lair's central chamber with his head held high, searching for the one person with whom he could gloat about the brilliance of his latest plot.

"Shego!" he called out, his coarse voice echoing through the cavernous space. He shouted several more times, but silence remained the only answer.

"_Yeah, just like old times."_ He lamented as he stalked off to another part of the lair. It was a good twenty minutes of searching before he finally located his objective.

"What are you? My babysitter?" Shego snarked when the good doctor finally tracked her down.

"I'm just saying that a friendly 'heads-up' would be nice." Drakken defensively pleaded. "It's a big lair and sometimes it can be hard to find someone."

"So you want me to keep you notified of my whereabouts at all times."

"Um, yeah… If it's not too much trouble."

"It _is!"_

"Well… um… in that case… never mind, then." Drakken stammered, quickly looking for an escape hatch from the conversation.

"So what did you want to see me about?" Shego finally sighed, figuring that the blue-hued scientist had learned his lesson.

"Ah, yes… Well, I just wanted you to feast your beautiful green eyes on _this!"_ he suddenly shouted, reaching into his trademark trench coat and producing a small object which he held between his forefinger and thumb.

Startled by the sudden outburst, the green villainess took a half step back, then leaned forward once again to inspect the offered item.

"Oh-kaaaaay…" she panned. "Just what am I supposed to be looking at here?"

"My latest and greatest, Shego." The doctor sing-songed. "The Synaptic Enhancement Transducer Chip!"

"Wait… Isn't that the Neural Compliance Chip that you had me boost from that Cyrus Bottleneck guy, or whatever the heck his name was?"

"In its original format, yes." Drakken grinned.

"So I'm guessing this means that you've taken the initiative and tricked it out somehow."

"You know me all to well, Shego."

"Yeah, four years as a live-in employee will do that to a gal. So what sorts of wacky add-ons have you added on?"

"Well I don't mean to brag or anything, but for starters, I've installed a neural-impulse amplification module."

"Okay, for the record, there are words coming out of your mouth that have no meaning to me."

"Oh, sorry. It means I can exponentially increase the strength of whomever is wearing this little ditty."

Shego arched an eyebrow in curiosity as she regarded the good doctor. Although she was loath to admit it, Drakken actually seemed to be having a good idea here... _so far._

"All right… You have my attention." She stated flatly.

"Secondly, there's an synaptic acceleration sub-routine as well."

"Meaning?"

"Improved reflexes and reaction times."

"Natch. And it still makes them completely obedient to your commands?"

"Of course. So, are we duly impressed, then?"

"Impressed? Not quite yet." Shego admitted. "I'm gonna have to see some results before I'll qualify as impressed. However, I would classify myself as 'interested.'"

"Interested?" Drakken asked quizzically. "Well I guess that's a start then, isn't it?"

"That is affirmative." His green-clad partner in crime admitted. Then, her expression suddenly turned to something much more sinister. In a flash, she grabbed Drakken by the lapels of his coat and yanked his nose to within an inch of her own.

"But if you even _think_ of using that thing on me again…" she growled through clenched teeth.

"I'll be in for a world of owie." Drakken completed, his voice little more than a strained squeak.

"You got that right, buster!" Shego replied, unceremoniously dropping her employer to the floor and turning to walk away. With Drakken, she reasoned, it was always a good idea to establish the ground rules in a way he was sure to understand.

* * *

"Thanks for the lift, Mister Abernathy!" Kim shouted above the roar of the engines.

"Don't mention it, Kim! It's the least we could do after you helped us out of that jam back in Miami!"

"Meh, it was really no big! Helping people is what we do, after all!"

"Well these hurricane relief supplies are certainly going to help a lot of people! I don't have to tell you, we were sweating bullets when our regular pilot suddenly came down sick!"

"Yeah! Chicken pox… at his age… who would have thought!"

"You need anything else from us?"

"Nah! We're good! I'm just gonna go check in with our substitute captain, if that's okay!"

"Well be careful up there! This old bird may be solid, but she can still be a bit of a rough ride from time to time!"

"Will do! And thanks again!" Kim shouted as she turned and made the short climb to the flight deck. With her natural grace and athletic ability it didn't take but a few moments for her to ascend the ladder and drop herself into the co-pilot's seat.

"So how's it going up here, sweetie?" she asked once she had gotten herself situated.

"Well it's noisy, bumpy, cramped, and the controls are as stiff as an over-starched shirt, but other than that it's not too bad."

"Chill out, Ron." Kim replied. "It may not be an F-14, but it'll get us to where we're going."

Ron simply grunted his acquiescence. At nearly 70-years old, the plane he now controlled was nearly as old as his grandparents. Built in an era before modern electronics or materials, it was without such basic comforts as sound insulation, power-assisted controls, GPS receivers or even air conditioning. It was rough-running, drafty, and had a cruising speed slower than that of many cars, but it was his ship for this day, and he was obligated to see it through to its destination.

Yes, the aging PBY-5 Catalina was a curious relic by any stretch of the imagination. With its large, parasol-like wing, radial engines and oversized tail, it was easy to see why aircrews had long ago nicknamed these planes "Gooney Birds." But still, the airframe wasn't without its benefits. Nearly the same size as a B-17 Flying Fortress, the Catalina possessed a cargo capacity that was impressive even by modern standards, and its ultra-long range meant that it could easily make the trek between even the remotest islands of the Caribbean. Furthermore, its distinction as an "amphibian" meant that it was ideally suited to life in this environment, equally capable of landing either at a traditional airport, or on the barren vastness of the open sea. It could take off, fly 1,200 miles through bad weather, land on a deserted beach, dispense its cargo and return without ever really breaking a sweat. It was the perfect plane for this sort of back-country flying.

Taking a final reading from the compass, Ron reached up and eased back on the two throttles that hung from the center of the cockpit's roof. Feeling the RPM slow, he adjusted the prop pitch and elevator trims before gently dipping the nose of this lumbering behemoth into a shallow descent path. His eyes never deviated from their straight-ahead position as the massive flying boat passed through a low-lying cloudbank and emerged into scene of pure blue sky and deep turquoise sea. To his right he could see their destination for the day, and he gently dipped one wing, beginning the turn into his approach.

After leveling out his flight path once again, he made another throttle adjustment and deployed the wing floats from their recessed positions beneath the glider-like wing tips. Easing the plane lower still, he took special care in keeping his nose up, as seaplanes were known for a propensity to dig into the surf and dive on landing. If one thing was for certain it was that airplanes, even the amphibious ones, made lousy submarines.

Kim suddenly found herself cringing and digging her fingernails into the armrests of her seat as the entire airframe shuddered and lurched twice, its massive hull bounding across the waves before settling in to become one with the gentle rolling of the ocean swells. Once it was over, she turned to see the image of her boyfriend smiling slyly back at her.

"Not… one… word." She grumbled.

"I didn't say anything."

"You were thinking it."

"Fair enough."

And with that, Ron nudged the throttles forward and taxied to the nearby island, dropping the planes wheels and coaxing the enormous airframe up onto the beaching ramp once they had arrived.

* * *

"You know, I gotta admit, I'm liking what they've done with this place. Their use of color is pretty original"

"Yeah, it's a regular candidate for 'Better Lairs & Villainy.' Now can we please focus on the mission?"

"Oh, yeah… Roger that." Ron replied, snapping out of his interior design mode. Infiltrating Drakken's newly rebuilt lair was proving to be rather distracting for him, as the multitude of changes seemed to grab his attention at every turn.

"Okay then." Kim continued, stopping at a "T" shaped split in the corridor they were now exploring. "These hallways seem to all be new, so we should probably split up and scout around. When it comes time to confront them, we don't want any surprises. You ready for this?"

"Isn't crown molding supposed to be painted the same color as the ceiling?"

"Ron!"

"Yeah, gotcha! Splitting up. Which way do I go?"

"The left side will do nicely, please and thank you."

"Check that… I'm on it!"

"Oh, and Ron…"

"Yeah?"

"Be careful."

Ron simply smiled and nodded before turning to disappear into the shadows of the dimly-lit corridor. Kim took a deep breath as she watched his receding form, then turned to continue her own exploration. Somehow, in a way that she couldn't explain, she sensed that something wasn't right. An unidentifiable voice in the back of her mind was screaming, and it was telling her that this sitch was about to go terribly wrong.

Just how wrong was something that she could never have imagined.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Okay… I've seriously got to stop taking the train.

Another day, another trip to Sacramento, another plot bunny and another story… Maybe it's something to do with the combination of the train's rocking motion and the sandwiches they serve in the dining car, but in any case, I think I'm starting to see a pattern forming here.

Anyhooooo, I should probably apologize for the lack of action in this chapter. When I originally started writing this, I anticipated a simple one-shot. However, things quickly got out of hand, and the darn thing grew to be just a little too big for a single chapter. (You see… _This_ is what happens when the train is late!) I can assure you, however, that the next installment will be packing plenty of heat in the action and drama departments.

And as for the technical mumbo-jumbo…

_Consolidated PBY-5 Catalina:_ Built by the Consolidated Aircraft Company, (the same friendly people who brought you the B-24 Liberator), the Catalina was one of the most widely used aircraft of the Second World War. Rugged, adaptable and easily maintained, the Catalina served with every branch of the American Armed Services, as well as with many of America's allies. From Europe, to North Africa, to the Pacific… Catalinas flew in every theater of combat, flying bombing and attack missions, tactical reconnaissance, supply and transport, and medical evacuation.

First placed into service in October of 1936, the PBY-5 quickly became indispensable to the United States Navy, allowing them the ability to supply and maintain garrisons throughout the many islands that made up the South Pacific Ocean. It seemed they could truly go anywhere and do anything, and their value could not be underestimated. When the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor on the morning of December 7, 1941, Catalinas parked at the seaplane base on Ford Island were some of the first casualties.

Today, 52 years after their retirement from the military, many Catalinas remain in service. The versatility and rugged dependability that defined them is still a valuable asset, and is highly sought after by professional and recreational pilots alike.

Well I guess that pretty well covers things for now. Tune in next time to see just what the looming disaster is that has Kim so worked up.

Read… review… and _rewind!_

_Nutzkie…_


	2. Kimmie, Beat Your Boyfriend

**Usual Legal Junk:**

As always, K.P. and company are the sole property of the Disney Corporation, as is anything associated with them. The only thing here that I own is the story idea itself, so don't even bother trying to make an issue of it. Any and all inquiries can be directed to my attorney at the law offices of Swindahl, Steel, Sosumi, Dolittle & Stahl.

And now, on with the show…

* * *

**- Chapter Two -**

There was something odd about villainous lairs: They all started to look alike after a while.

Being, as a general rule, expansive and subterranean in nature, their labyrinth of interconnecting corridors offered little in the way of recognizable landmarks or directional indicators. Spread out over multiple levels, anonymous hallways and passageways led to a multitude of rooms, which in turn led to even more hallways and passageways. It was like taking a walk through a human ant farm, and ending up with a somewhat predictable result…

_He was lost._

Groaning at what he had to admit was an all-too-familiar sitch, Ron leaned back against an anonymous patch of wall and nervously rubbed the back of his neck. Sensing something amiss, Rufus was quick to make an appearance, abandoning the comfy confines of his master's pocket for a more supportive position on his shoulder. Ron simply regarded his pet with a forlorn sigh.

"Looks like I've done it again, little buddy." He dejectedly groaned.

"Hurk… Uh-huh." Rufus nodded, trying his best to remain upbeat about the situation. He realized that if there was one thing that his owner didn't need right now, it was a judgmental rodent.

"Well, since we don't know where we're going, I guess we should probably double back the way we came, right?"

The tiny rodent simply nodded his head in agreement.

"Okeedokee then!" Ron said, turning around to eye the hallway warily. "Which way was that again?"

A small, dejected warble could be heard to escape from a set of tiny pink lips.

* * *

Stalking briskly through the halls of her employer's lair, Shego wore a look of supreme annoyance on her face. Granted, the facilities here were completely self sufficient and equipped with every comfort and convenience imaginable, but there was still the simple problem of the place being so darn big! Things were so spread out that even simple tasks became ordeals in their own right, requiring one to cover large distances to accomplish their goals.

The green villainess sneered inwardly as she turned a corner, thinking about how she had to pack a freakin' lunch just to get from her private bedroom suite to the mess hall. It was entirely too much trouble for one to lead an otherwise normal existence, and ultra-plush wall-to-wall carpeting could only do so much in terms of comforting a person.

But on the other hand, walking _was_ great cardio.

Still, Shego couldn't help but feel just a little bit tweaked about the expedition she was now forced to launch simply to retrieve her i-pod. Good beats were worth working for, after all, but this was just ridiculous.

Turning another corner in a huff she never noticed the skulking figure right in front of her…

At least until she wound up on the floor in a heap.

"Look where you're going you big bag of barf!" she exclaimed, twisting around to untangle herself from whomever it was that she had just collided with.

It was at that point that her emerald green eyes suddenly went wide with surprise… _then rage._

"Uh-oh. This can't end well." Ron moaned, wishing desperately that he could shrink himself like Mego and hide behind the baseboard. The look Shego was now showing him simply screamed "massive pain infliction ahead."

"Well, well… If it isn't my second least favorite person in the world." Shego growled, slowly rising to her feet. "You know I never got to properly thank you for putting me in the water after our last dust-up."

"Heh… Well I'm sure it wasn't _that_ bad." Ron stammered. "You know, they say a relaxing swim can be good for you."

"Two words, buffoon: 'jelly fish.'"

"Ooooh… _Yikes."_

"Sooooo… Since you're here, and I'm here, let's take this opportunity to settle a few old scores, shall we?" Shego sneered, taking a fighting stance and igniting her plasma.

"Okay, if that's the way you want it." Ron replied, suddenly screwing on his serious face and assuming a fighting crouch of his own. "But I should let you know, the Ronster is packing a whole new bag of skills."

"Really?" Shego asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh yeah! I'm all-new with the mad Fu! _Hee-yah! Wazaaaaahhh…!"_ He launched into a series of poorly coordinated, cliché martial arts poses which all appeared to have been pulled from poorly produced Kung Fu movies on late night television. Shego could only raise an eyebrow, wondering if his strategy was to double her over with laughter and then run away while she was distracted.

"You've got to be kidding me, right?" she finally asked, eyeing him with a gaze that was equal parts amusement and confusion.

"Actually, yeah." Ron blithely admitted, suddenly ceasing his gyrations and casting his eyes downward. "So it's the standard prisoner-capturing procedure, then?"

"Yeah, yeah… you know the drill." Shego instructed, a twinge of disappointment evident in her voice. "Hands on your head, five feet in front of me, _blah blah blahbity blah…"_ She really did want to thrash the idiot for what he had done to her in the Philippines that spring, but fighting just wasn't any fun if your opponent didn't even bother fighting back.

And besides, she had just gotten a manicure that morning and she _really_ didn't want to risk messing it up.

With a final huff, she turned and began escorting her newfound prisoner back to the main section of the lair, never noticing the small pink form slinking its way through the shadows, heading rapidly in the opposite direction.

* * *

"Ha-HAH! The finishing touches are COMPLETE!" Dr. Drakken triumphantly shouted as he pulled the protective goggles from his face and held the tiny chip aloft in the air.

"Now, pending the completion of a few minor field tests, it will be ready for fully-operational status!" he gleefully sneered, dancing about the room. "This is going to be so sweet! My initial target will never know what hit him!"

"Uh, who is the initial target, boss?" one of the henchmen inquired from his spot in the background.

"My cousin Eddie." Drakken growled. "All those years growing up, dealing with him and that stupid game… _'Stop hitting yourself, Drew… Stop hitting yourself… Stop hitting yourself…'_ GAAAAHHHHHHH! Well let's see how he likes it when I'm giving the orders, and _he's_ the one hitting _him self…_ With a _tire iron!_ Ha!"

"Hey Doctor D!" a familiar voice suddenly called out. "Bad news on the remodeling job. Instead of calling a decorator, you should have called an exterminator."

The mad scientist cringed at the mention of the word "exterminator," remembering his experience with the mutant termites. For two whole weeks he had been forced to hole himself up at the time-share lair while his regular residence was wrapped up like a Christmas gift and fumigated. It was an experience he was most definitely not eager to repeat.

"Oh for the love of lemon squares." He moaned. "What do we have this time? Roaches? Mice? Mosquitoes with overbite?"

"Worse." His erstwhile sidekick answered. "We've got an idiot infestation." And with that, she slung the familiar form of a blond-haired boy into the center of the room, sending him sliding to a stop at Drakken's feet.

"_Heh_-hey Drew." Ron nervously stammered, craning to stare up at the blue-skinned form now towering over him. "So how's life treating our favorite arch foe?"

"Just fine, until the moment you showed up!" Drakken growled. "I suppose this means that Kim Possible is nearby?"

"Well she's somewhere in the vicinity." Ron answered, pulling himself up onto his elbows, but not rising entirely to his feet.

"Would you care to tell me exactly where, then?" Drakken inquired.

"What? Do you think I've got a GPS tracker on her or something?"

_"Uhhhhhh…"_

"That would be a 'no,' F.Y.I."

"Ah, _fiddlesticks!"_

"Hey, I'm her sidekick. Not her babysitter."

"Well no matter. At this stage, there's nothing that even the great Kim Possible can do to stop me." Drakken began to gloat. Shego and the henchmen began to make themselves comfortable, expecting that this was most likely going to take a while.

"So I suppose I should tell you my plan now?" Drakken inquired, glancing down to Ron who was still laid out on the ground.

"Well, that _is_ the usual tradition," Ron admitted, "but right now I'm more curious about these floor tiles. Is this _Italian_ marble?"

"Ah! I see you have taste." Drakken beamed. "I actually had this specially imported from a quarry near Floren… eh… eh… HEY! NO CHANGING THE SUBJECT!"

"Well sor-_eeee!_ _Sheesh."_ Ron moaned under the reprimand.

"And pick yourself up off of there! You're fogging up my high-gloss finish!"

"All right! All right! I'm a' picking! I'm a' picking!"

"It took me over an hour of buffing to get that right!"

"You? Buffing floors?"

"Okay, so it took the _henchmen_ over an hour of buffing!"

"Now that's more like it."

"Super! Now can we please get back to the topic at hand?"

"Yeah, yeah… Whatever you say, Blue Boy. So what's the plot du jour this go round?"

"Well since you asked," Drakken began, "you might say my latest plan is an easy 'chip-shot' for success. Feast your wondering eyes on this!"

"Doctor Bortle's mind control chip?" Ron asked incredulously. "Didn't you already do that one?"

"Want not, waste not." Drakken said defensively. "It's not like I have unlimited resources, you know. Besides, since our last encounter, I've added a few upgrades."

"Upgrades? Yeah, whatever."

"You're not impressed?" Drakken asked, sounding somewhat hurt by Ron's lack of enthusiasm.

"Well don't get me wrong, now." Ron began to explain. "It's not like everyone doesn't appreciate the effort you make. Really, we do. It's just that your past track record doesn't really inspire one to confidence."

"Oh really!" Drakken fumed. "Well I'll have you know, Mister Smartyboots, that I've come up with plenty of successful schemes in my day!"

"Yeah? Name one!"

"Well, let's see… There was… uhhhh… or the time that… ahhh… ummmmmmm… Oh wait! There was that thing with the… uhhhh… ohhhh… snap!"

"Hey, I'm sorry Dude," Ron consoled the sagging doctor, "but let's face it: You've never been much for villainy. Now your innovative use of track lighting, on the other hand…"

"Ah, well… Given that round rooms are so ridiculously hard to accent, I thought that using a modular system would… dah… dahhh… HEEEEEEY! YOU'RE CHANGING THE SUBJECT AGAIN!"

"Okay! I get it! 'Stay on topic.' Just pop a chill pill already!" Ron implored. "So whose the lucky guinea pig that's gonna have their head rethreaded with that gizmo?"

"Well I _was_ going to ask one of the henchmen to volunteer for the task," Drakken growled, his grin suddenly turning menacing, "but now I think I've got a much better idea."

"Why do I suddenly feel that I'm gonna regret asking that?" Ron grimaced, slowly backing away from the malevolent madman before him. "You know, as big of a hassle as thinking for myself can sometimes be, I think I'd still rather…"

The sudden appearance of a green glow behind him indicated that Shego had flared her plasma.

"Right then. It goes on like this?" he enthusiastically asked, taking the chip from Drakken.

"Hmmmmm… You've got it on a little crooked," Drakken observed, "but it's close enough. Time to flip the switch!"

"Uh, just one question." Ron suddenly interjected.

"What!"

"You aren't gonna make me wear one of those pink, frilly aprons are you?"

Drakken glanced down at the boy, then to Shego who scowled as she recalled her previous experience with the mind-altering technology.

"Uhhh… I don't think that will be necessary, no." He stammered, quickly retreating to a bank of controls on the far side of the room.

* * *

Just how much junk did your average super villain have, anyway?

Judging by the number of storage rooms in a typical lair, it was quite a lot.

From time to time Kim had theorized that there was some mysterious law of physics that stated no matter how large one's residence might be; there would always be one extra room's worth of junk that you cannot account for. It didn't matter whether you lived in a one-room studio apartment, or the Winchester Mansion: There would always be that extra room of junk.

Truth be told, it was actually Ron's theory, but her own experiences had borne this hypothesis out to a certain degree so she had adopted it as her own as well.

And now, judging by the number of dark and dusty spaces she had just explored, it seemed to be proving its validity once again.

She was just starting to explore the disorganized contents of room number nine when a small pink missile came zipping into the room, skidding around a corner and zooming up the side of her leg.

She actually let out a startled scream before she realized the identity of the intruder.

"Rufus?" she asked in shock. "What are you doing here?"

Her "worry factor" kicked into overdrive as the tiny creature in her hands began to chatter and gesticulate wildly. For the mole rat to have sought her out without Ron in tow could only mean that things had gone badly for the other half of Team Possible.

"Slow down, Rufus!" Kim commanded. "You know I can't understand you when you stutter!" To be honest, it was a wonder that she could understand him at all. To most people the little guy's system of squeaks, clicks and gestures appeared to be so much gibberish. But to her and Ron, it was a complex language, difficult to understand at times, but still decipherable. To Kim, the ability to understand an animal made it sometimes feel like she was living in an old rerun of "Lassie."

"Okay, I think I've got it now! Ron… Shego… _Captured?"_ she excitedly inquired, earning a vigorous nod from Rufus.

"Well if that's the way Shego wants to play, then _fine!"_ she growled, quickly slipping into her game face and stalking out the door. "It's _hero_ time!"

* * *

From a command platform located high above the floor of the lair's main control center, the infamous Doctor Drakken, a man feared and reviled the world over, barked out commands to the minions who were frantically scurrying about beneath him.

"Simmons!" he bellowed. "Get on diagnostics and run a final systems check! Hadley… Shunt main power to all primary breakers! Edwards… Run down to the commissary and fetch me some of those mini-quiches, will you? Those things are simply de-_lish!"_

"Sorry, but hors d'oeuvres for this evening have been canceled!" an all-too familiar voice called out from the shadows.

"Ugh, Kim Possible." Drakken Groaned. "Why am I not surprised?"

"Maybe because you're finally learning after all these years?" Shego snarked, shooting a sideways glance at her employer.

"Shego…" Drakken grumbled. "Flippant remarks are not helping the situation any."

"Okay, fine then." The green villainess conceded, flaring her plasma and preparing to leap from the platform. "One order of butt-kicking with a side of humiliation, coming right up!"

"Actually, that won't be necessary, Shego." Drakken casually remarked, shocking everyone within the room, although none was more surprised than Shego herself.

"But… Princess… and me… I thought…" Shego stammered, not comprehending what her employer was getting at.

"This time around, I'm bringing in a pinch hitter." Drakken maliciously grinned. "And I believe _he'll_ be doing most of the hitting, if I'm not mistaken."

"_Pfft…"_ Kim scoffed. "File _that_ one away under the heading of 'not gonna happen.'"

"Oh _really"_ Drakken asked with a raised eyebrow. "Well then let's just get down to business and see about that, shall we? Oh _sub-stitute…"_

At the sound of Drakken's call out, a shadowy figure began to emerge from a darkened corridor at the far side of the room. At first, its identity remained concealed by its darkened surroundings, but as it moved forward, shadows gave way to light, and Kim gasped when recognition finally struck her like a freight train.

_"Ron?"_

Ron was standing about 20 feet away, directly in front of her, displaying a blank and unreadable expression that Kim could only describe as a "thousand-yard stare." His eyes, which were normally so full of life, were now vacant and cold. He simply stood there like a statue, unmoving and unflinching, betraying no clue as to what thoughts or feelings may be going on inside of him.

And then there was the chip.

The small, red and black square was clearly visible in the middle of his forehead, indicating without a doubt the reason behind this unusual behavior. Kim shuddered involuntarily as she recalled her own experience with Doctor Bortle's technology. It had felt like she was a prisoner in her own body, standing idly by and watching events transpire, unable to do anything to intercede.

Knowing that Ron was now going through the same personal Hell sent a cold chill down her spine.

"What have you done to him?" she growled menacingly, grinding her teeth in anger. Playing her emotions with a synthodrone was one thing, but forcefully turning her own boyfriend against her was crossing a line that no person should ever cross.

"Me?" Drakken asked innocently. "I haven't done anything. I've simply helped him to realize his full evil potential."

"Well if you don't help him 'unrealize' it in the next ten seconds, then I'm gonna come up there, and I'm gonna stick my hand so far down your throat that I'll be tickling your spleen!"

The mad doctor visibly flinched at that remark, but quickly regained his composure.

"I find that highly unlikely." Drakken scoffed. "The way I see it, you'll be far too preoccupied."

He then cast a devious smile in Shego's direction.

"Let's see how our two lovebirds sort out their differences, shall we?" he quipped. "Mind control minion, _ATTACK!"_

Without a word, Ron charged, his eyes suddenly narrowing in grim determination. Kim deftly dodged his first blow and shifted into a defensive stance, not yet ready to believe what she was seeing.

"This is _so_ beyond 'wrongsick.'" She silently observed.

Wheeling around, Ron pressed his attack, launching a succession of quick jabs that Kim either dodged or blocked. When switched up to a right cross however, Kim ducked under the strike, grabbed his arm and used his own momentum to send him spinning to the floor. The move was calculated to throw him off a ballance, but not seriously hurt him. She just couldn't bring herself to injure the one person who meant more to her than anything in the world, even if he _was_ trying to injure her.

Taking a defensive position once again, she watched warily as Ron picked himself up, clenched his fists and turned to face her. The cold, determined look was still etched onto his face, his eyes shimmering as dark, lifeless pools of nothingness. He looked nothing like the young man she loved so dearly, but he was still Ron. She told herself that somewhere, behind what the chip was doing to him, he was still in there: Still the same loveably loyal goofball that he had always been.

Taking the offensive once again, Ron attacked with a left hook that Kim barely managed to dodge, then followed with a roundhouse punch that Kim once again ducked underneath, this time dropping into a crouch and executing a leg sweep that sent Ron tumbling to the floor. He was back on his feet again and ready to attack almost before Kim had managed to reset her self.

Kim could only stare in wide-eyed amazement as Ron prepared to attack once again. The speed at which he was moving was unlike anything she had ever seen from him before. His reactions were quicker, his strikes more swift, and the raw power he was putting into his attacks was so far above his normal standards that it seemed to be off the scale. She quickly realized that Ron could do some real damage to her if he slipped past her defenses, and stealing a glance toward the grinning duo watching from the platform above, she had a pretty good idea of where this Kung Fu power-up was coming from.

"Man, that chip kicks serious butt!" Shego observed, watching the battle unfold below her. "What setting do you have that thing on, anyway? Patty Hearst?"

"Superior design yields superior results." Drakken loftily stated. "Now let's watch the show, shall we? I have a feeling it's just about to get good."

Kim could only watch in horror as Ron came at her a third time, this time leaping into a flying kick. She dropped to the floor and rolled forward, allowing him to pass harmlessly over her. She started to get up and face him again when she felt the unmistakable sensation of a boot impacting the small of her back. The blow sent her careening forward, tumbling to the floor.

She didn't need to be omniscient to know what had happened: Ron had followed up his attack with a spin-kick, and had caught her in her blind side. Wincing with discomfort, she rolled onto her back, and gasped as she saw Ron hurtling toward her. She managed to roll out of the way just as his knee crashed down onto the spot where her head had been just a half-second before.

Regaining her feet, she faced off against the familiar form once again, now considerably more worried than before. If anything, the chip was making him faster and stronger as the fight went on, and it seemed only a matter of time before he would officially outclass her. He would simply continue to wear her down, punch by punch, kick by kick, until her defenses crumbled and he struck the finishing blow. Somehow she couldn't even imagine what he was going through at that moment, trapped within his own mind, watching him self beat the stuffing out of his own girlfriend, and being completely helpless to stop it. She imagined him screaming for help in a voice that only he could hear, and she resolved then and there that she would provide that help, no matter what the cost.

The only question was "how."

As potential solutions went, continuing the fight was clearly not an option. The only direction that path seemed to be leading toward was her getting her head handed to her, and that wasn't going to help either one of them. Her only hope was to somehow deactivate the chip, she reasoned, and to do that she would need to get to Drakken.

Shifting her position as Ron prepared to attack once more, she waited for her moment to strike.

It came when Ron lunged forward, his fist cocked back behind his ear, putting all of his strength into the blow. Kim feigned a block, then ducked and rolled forward once again, taking Ron's legs out from under him as she went. Hearing him tumble unceremoniously to the floor, it wasn't an instant before she was on her feet and charging toward the platform where the two villains now stood. She knew there had to be a command signal for controlling the chips functions. If she could shut that down, she reasoned, then she would shut down the chip. If she could just reach the control console up on the platform…

The stairway leading to the platform was just coming into range when a solid blow from behind threw her off balance, sending her headlong into a bank of electrical cabinets that lined the base of the platform. Groggily, she began to pick her self up, only to be lifted off the floor and slammed hard against the cold, gray steel. A vice-like grip suddenly clamped itself tight around her throat and held her fast. She gagged; fighting for breath as she stared into the sneering, contemptuous face of the person she had spent nearly her entire life growing up with.

"Ha! At last, the grand finale!" Drakken cheered from the platform above her. "We are taping this, aren't we?" he asked a nearby henchman. "I totally want to watch this again later!"

To Kim's horror, Ron wasn't letting up. The intensity of his grip tightened even further, cutting off more of her air supply. She fought back as best she could, coughing and struggling for breath. It was a losing battle as her struggles only caused him to grip tighter, all the while his eyes displaying the cold, soulless depth that they had shown sine the ordeal had began.

"Ron… Listen to me!" Kim shouted as best she could as she felt the beginning stages of a blackout creeping in on her. "I know you're still in there somewhere, and I need you to listen to me!"

For a brief moment, Ron actually relaxed his grip. He quickly recovered, but it was enough to let Kim know that her desperate gamble had paid off. Somewhere behind all the nefarious functions of that confounded chip, the Ron she knew was still there, still able to hear her. If she could somehow reason with him and bring him out, she thought, them maybe, just maybe, she'd have a fighting chance after all.

"Ron!" she gasped. "I know I've spent a lot of years saving you, but now… _(Cough)_ I need you to save… _(Gag)_ save me!"

For the second time in as many minutes, Ron relaxed his grip, mercifully allowing Kim to gasp a few desperately needed gulps of air. She noticed his eyes twitch slightly, as if to betray the presence of something behind them, and she decided to press her advantage.

"Listen to me, Ron." She pleaded. "Drakken may have control of your mind, but he doesn't control your heart. And I know that heart, Ron. It's the sweetest, kindest, gentlest, most genuinely pure heart I've ever met. It's the heart I grew up with. It's the heart I fell in love with."

"Oh for the love of… Would you look at this?" Drakken ranted as he watched the scene below him. "We're not making syrup here, you buffoon, so ditch the sap and _finish her_ already!"

"No Ron, I need you to fight for me!" Kim shouted back, desperately watching his eyes for any sign of the soul that she knew lay behind them. "Fight back against that chip! I know you can do it! I believe in you, Ron! Do it for me? Please?"

Suddenly, Ron's entire body violently convulsed. His eyes clamped shut and his teeth ground against one another so tightly that it was audible even to Kim. His grip around her neck loosened, then went slack, allowing her to slide to the floor like a limp rag doll, clutching her own throat and gasping for breath.

"What are you doing, you fool?" Drakken bellowed, staring downward with an incensed glare. "Get back in there and kill her! Or at least inflict some serious bodily harm, for cryin' out loud!"

"Looks like your 'pinch hitter' is falling behind in the count, Doc." Shego sniped.

"Zip it, Shego." Drakken shot back.

Rather than heed the mad doctor's request, Ron instead turned his back toward Drakken and began to stagger away, his face contorted in an expression of what Kim could only describe as "pure agony." He managed to put about ten feet between himself and her before he collapsed to his knees, craning his face upward toward the ceiling and bringing both hands up to grasp the chip on his forehead. Then, with a primordial scream that seemed to shake the entire building to its foundations, he gave a mighty tug.

There was a brilliant burst of light as the chip exploded, its circuits overloaded to critical levels by the feedback emanating from Ron's exertion of will. The force of the blast sent him reeling backward as the crisp "pop" of the explosion caused all within the room to wince reflexively. He collapsed to the floor in a disorganized heap, unconscious and unmoving.

It wasn't a moment before Kim was at his side, desperately trying to raise a response from him.

"Oh God, Ron… Please be okay!" she sobbed, rolling him over to check his vitals. The scorched and blistered outline of the chip was still clearly evident on his forehead, and the sight of it made her stomach turn. She realized how painful it must have been for him to resist the chip's control functions in the way that he had, and an entire new wave of worry swept over her as she did.

"C'mon, baby! Stay with me now!" she half-commanded, half-pleaded. "Just please, sweetie… Speak to me!"

At that moment, Ron shifted slightly and moaned softly. It wasn't much, but it was enough to let the crying redhead know that he was still alive, and probably not brain damaged by the ordeal.

Kim gasped a single sob of relief, realizing that the man of her dreams was going to be all right. Then, she rose to her feet and steeled herself once again. There was still one more loose end to tie up...

Well, technically _two_ loose ends.

"Ohhhhh… _snap!"_ Drakken moaned

As Kim turned to face the nefarious ne'er do wells, she displayed a look that made even Shego's blood run cold. It seemed as though all the fires of Hell itself were burning behind her emerald green eyes, and the furry of the apocalypse came with them. There was now welling up within her a rage the likes of which neither villains nor henchmen had ever seen. There was no mistaking the signs: Judgment day had come.

"Nobody… hurts… my… boyfriend!" Kim growled, her voice virtually rumbling as she began to stalk her way up the stairs. "And… I… mean… _nobody!"_

As the redheaded heroine ascended the final step, Shego took a step back. It took a lot to cow a person who routinely breaks into the worlds most secure installations and faces down entire squads of armed guards, but the look on Kim's face and the motions of her stride did the trick. The venom boiling up within her was almost palpable. She was an avenging angel, come to seek retribution against those who would defile the one thing she held most dear in all the world.

Swallowing hard and steeling her resolve, Shego assumed a battle stance and ignited her plasma. Enraged or not, this was still the same Princess she had fought countless times before, she told herself, and emotions of the moment made no difference in the dynamics of a fight.

"All right, Pumpkin," Shego taunted, "if you wanna get rough, then let's play!"

With one final boost to her plasma, Shego charged, racing into the attack at break-neck speed and drawing one clawed glove back for a slashing strike. Kim simply held her ground as the villainous vixen rapidly closed the distance between them, waiting until the last possible instant before reacting.

Then, with a quickness that seemed to defy the laws of physics, Kim made her move.

In what looked to all observers like a red blur, Kim swiftly ducked under Shego's strike, allowing the glowing green hand to pass harmlessly over her. Then, in the instant that her foe's midsection was exposed, she counter-attacked, launching herself upward from her crouching position, putting her full weight and momentum into the blow as she drove her right fist upward into the space just below Shego's ribcage.

The glow of plasma quickly flickered and died as Shego gasped for air, hanging limp across the pointed vestige of Kim's balled-up fist. Stunned to the point of paralysis, she could only hang there helplessly as Kim leaned forward and whispered into her ear.

"The next time you whack-jobs even _think_ of messing with Ron," she coarsely hissed, "remember _this!"_

Then, with the reflexes of a cat, Kim reared up and brought a crashing left hook down into Shego's back, striking her squarely between her shoulder blades. Her quivering form struck the floor and bounced once, scattering shards of shattered marble tile in all directions.

To the stunned onlookers, there was no misinterpreting the outcome of Shego's latest fight: Kim Possible had literally broken the floor with her.

And that left one extremely terrified mad scientist still to be dealt with.

"_Mommy!"_ Drakken squeaked as he shrunk into the narrow space between two consoles. He was shaking like a dead leaf in a hurricane as Kim approached, coming to stand no more than two feet in front of him; her emerald orbs shooting entire volleys of daggers into his quivering form.

"Anybody here who's not evil and blue, _scram!"_ Kim sternly commanded.

Over a dozen henchmen chose this moment to scatter in all directions, like roaches fleeing the daylight.

"And that leaves us with the question of what I'm going to do with you." Kim continued, glowering down at the pathetic form before her.

"Well, you did just mess up my new floor pretty bad," Drakken sheepishly observed. "Do you suppose we could just call it even? _Eeeep!"_ He squeaked as Kim grabbed him by the lapels of his trench coat and roughly hoisted him onto his feet so that his nose was virtually touching hers.

"Well, I'll take that as a 'no,' then." He sputtered.

"Good call." Kim growled. "But I do have a few ideas of my own that I'd like to share with you." She continued, her face morphing into a sinister grin that would have made the good doctor, or any other villain for that matter, proud.

* * *

Ten minutes later, Kim descended the stairs from the platform, briskly clapping the dust from of her hands and wearing a self-satisfied smile. She had discovered that she really hadn't needed to hurt Drakken after all, as it turned out that dual doses of fear and humiliation were more than sufficient to achieve her goals. She knew she had accomplished the former when she noticed a dark stain forming in the lower regions of Drakken's coat. The later objective required a bit more creativity, however.

Needless to say when Global Justice agents arrived in an hour's time, they would be surprised to find a fidgeting villain, stripped to his underwear and trussed-up like a Thanksgiving turkey, suspended in the middle of a storage room, swaying serenely from a ceiling rafter like some sort of grotesque, blue piñata.

She had no doubt that the villainous pair would eventually find their way out of prison and back into their previous criminal lifestyle. In some strange way, it was like the circle of life for them. But even with this knowledge, she was confident in the fact that regardless of what the future may hold, it would be a cold day in Hell before either of them ever tried targeting Ron in that way again. Her man was off limits to the bad guys, and that was, to put it simply, _that._

Any feelings of satisfaction quickly died, however, once she reached the bottom of the stairs. Ron was still sprawled on the tile floor, just as she had left him several minutes before. She sprinted to his side once again, taking a small measure of relief when he stirred slightly at her approach.

"Mmmph… _KP?"_ he barely managed to squeak out.

"Yeah, I'm here baby." She whispered softly, kneeling beside him. "Just hold on. Help is on the way."

"You… okay?" he moaned.

"Yeah, I'm okay sweetie. Just lie still now. Everything's gonna be all right."

"KP… I'm… sorry."

"Don't be, baby. You couldn't help it. That wasn't you."

"So… sorry…"

"Shhhhhh… Just take it easy now. I've got you."

With these words, she gently lifted Ron's head to cradle him in her arms, settling back against a nearby stack of packing crates to await GJ's arrival.

* * *

Having one of the world's top brain surgeons as your girlfriend's mother can certainly have its perks.

The GJ hoverjet that returned Team Possible to Middleton that day had hadn't bothered with the typical protocol of an airport landing. Instead, the sleek, ultra-modern craft had taken the intrepid duo directly to the rooftop heliport of the Middleton Medical Center. From there it had been a short elevator ride down to the neurology I.C.U ward where Doctor Anne Possible had been chomping at the proverbial bit, awaiting the team's arrival.

Needless to say, Ron had received the best care imaginable since his arrival two days prior. There had been batteries of tests, scans, machines that ran him through large, tunnel-like contraptions and his being hooked up to so many wires that he swore he could watch TV Trash Heap on himself if he held his arms just right. At first he had objected to all of the fuss, pointing out to the staff that they should probably be helping patients who were truly sick. Anne quickly quashed this sentiment; however, by reminding everyone that the brain was a highly unforgiving area when it came to injury, and considering what he had just been through, it would be in everyone's best interest if they erred on the side of caution. Discretion was the better part of valor, after all, and Doctor Possible wasn't about to release her patient until she was sure she had explored all potential areas of risk.

And so it came to pass that on the afternoon before his scheduled discharge, Ron was lounging back in his hospital bed, Kim seated beside him, seemingly lost in thought. The non-verbal display quickly caught Kim's attention, as Ron was most certainly not known as the strong, silent type.

"So how's the forehead coming along?" she finally asked, leaning over to inspect the bandage that still covered the aforementioned body part. She probed the area in question gingerly with her finger, eliciting a hissing wince from Ron.

"Oooooh, still sore?" she asked, quickly withdrawing her hand glancing guiltily downward.

"A little." Ron squeaked. "Man, I hope this doesn't leave a mark."

"I wouldn't worry too much." Kim reassured him. "Mom says that the damage is only topical. Scars only form when tissue damage runs deep."

"Well I guess that would count as reassuring." He admitted, lounging back a little farther. For several moments, silence once again filled the room. Finally, Kim again pressed the issue.

"So why the silent treatment all of a sudden?"

"Beg pardon?"

"You've hardly said a word all afternoon, Ron. So not like you."

"Maybe I just like the quiet?"

"Nice try, but no dice. If you were someone quiet and artsy like Josh, then _maybe_ I'd buy that, but you're not, so it's spill time. What's eating you?"

"Nothing… Nothing's eating me."

"You're a terrible liar, Ron."

"Says who?"

"Four words: Bermuda… Triangle… Poker… Tournament."

"Okay… Fair 'nuff."

"So are you gonna tell me what's up, or am I gonna have to go get the dirty, gossipy version from Monique."

"Okay! Okay! I'll spill!" Ron shouted. "It's just that, back there… at the lair… I… I…" His voice suddenly tightened up and trailed off as the remainder of the sentence stuck in his throat. It was an emotional display, and one that Kim could fairly guess the reasons behind, although she hadn't expected having to deal with such issues so soon.

"Ron, it's okay." She said, leaning over to lay a comforting hand atop his own. "It's really no big."

"But don't you see, KP? It _is_ a big! It's a _major_ big!" Ron strongly replied. "When we were fighting back there, I could have hurt you. I _did_ hurt you. I just couldn't seem to stop myself from…"

His words were suddenly cut off by a slender finger being placed over his lips.

"I want you to listen to me now, Ron." Kim instructed. "That wasn't you back there. That was the chip controlling you. I know who you really are, Ron Stoppable, and I know that you'd never willingly do anything to hurt me. Do you think I would have ever given my heart to anyone who I couldn't honestly say that about?"

"But… I could have _killed_ you, Kim!"

"But you didn't, don't you see? You fought back and beat Drakken's device. Even with all your mental functions under his control, you still couldn't bring yourself to really, truly hurt me. It just wasn't in you. That's not who you are."

"But…"

"Ron, the bottom line is that when the chips were down, you came through for me. Just like you always have… Just like you always will."

She allowed her words to sink in for a moment, letting Ron silently mull them over in his head, then watching as a faint smile spread slowly across his cherubic face.

"Man, how can one person be right all the time?" he asked.

"_Meh… _It's a gift." She replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, leaning in closer to him, inching their lips ever-so closer together.

By the time they finally broke the kiss, Kim could swear Ron's heart monitor was tapping out Morse code.

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

Well this one certainly turned out a lot longer than I expected. I guess this is what happens when plot bunny populations are allowed to grow unchecked. (I _so_ need to call an exterminator.)

I want to thank all of you for bearing with me through all of my long-windedness. I realize that I sometimes have a tendency to run off at the keyboard, as it were, and stories like this are sometimes the result. I'll try and exercise more brevity in the future.

In any case, a special crate of thanks goes out to JAKT, CajunBear73, Anime-Freak317, Christian Ninja Rabbit and Danny171984. Your reviews of chapter one were wonderful and were a big help in motivating me to push the rest of this story through the works.

As always, read and review to your heart's content. All questions, comments and snide remarks are welcome. Employees are ineligible. Your results may vary. Void where prohibited. All rights reserved. So there!

Take care, one and all!

_Nutzkie…_


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